Smoke In Your Mouth
by doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Glenn really wishes that Daryl would stop smoking, but not for the obvious reasons.  Rated T for sexual themes.  Written as a response to a kinkmeme prompt.


**Author's Note:** This was written in response to a prompt on the Walking Dead kinkmeme: _Glenn gets turned on watching Daryl all but make LOVE to a cigarette._ It's short but I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it, R&R is always welcome. xo.

**Smoke In Your Mouth.**

Glenn really wished that Daryl would stop smoking. It wasn't because of the lingering scent or the carcinogens lacing the cigarette; Christ, cancer was the _least _of their worries, buried underneath the threat of being eaten alive or dying of pneumonia or getting tetanus from a rusty nail.

No, the real reason was that there seemed to be a direct connection between Glenn's crotch and Daryl's smoking. Whenever he stuck a cigarette between his lips, Glenn would get an erection. Every. Single. Time. Normally, it didn't present a huge problem, since Daryl usually had the decency to wait until they were sitting around the fire to pull a smoke out of one of his pockets. At least then, Glenn could sneak away after dinner to the darkness of his tent, losing himself in the images of the other things Daryl could have been sucking on instead.

But this. This was just _unnecessary. _

The little ones had been getting restless so they'd stopped on the side of the road for a few minutes, just long enough to let them expel some cooped up energy. It hadn't just been Carl and Sophia who needed to walk around; Glenn needed some fresh air, needed to get away from the stale atmosphere inside the RV. It was sweltering outside but nonetheless, it was better than being stifled by tension. Baseball bat at his side, he'd retreated to the shade, relaxing against a tree without completely zoning out.

When Daryl came over to sit beside him, he tried to not immediately tense up. The man already had a goddamn smoke out, dangling loosely between his grimy fingers. Glenn swallowed heavily as Daryl settled down beside him, the constant companion of his crossbow resting across his lap. As he stuck the smoke between his lips, hands roaming for a lighter, Glenn caught a glimpse of his tongue, flicking once over the end.

This was just plain obscene.

Daryl finally found a pack of matches in his jeans and lit up, tossing the burnt out match in the general direction of the road. He took a deep drag, like he was inhaling oxygen rather than nicotine before exhaling, making a noise somewhere between a contented sigh and a moan. Even if he _had _been trying to stop his imagination from going into overdrive, Glenn knew that there was no turning back now. His jeans were far too tight and he could feel a drop of sweat sliding down his forehead. Even as he swallowed again, trying to bring some moisture into his suddenly dry throat, Daryl repeated the noise, the groan rumbling out of his throat. His eyes slipped to half mast and he slumped back against the trunk of a tree, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Glenn wondered if Daryl smoked after sex.

"Do you want a drag?" It took Glenn a second to realize that Daryl's voice hadn't been part of his imagination; indeed, the man was glancing sideways at him, cheeks hollowing as he sucked on the end like it was a lollypop or something far more inappropriate. He'd never smoked before but in that moment, it just seemed like the natural response; after all, it was probably the only thing Daryl was ever going to share with him. With trembling fingers, he reached out and took the cigarette, putting it between his lips and trying to copy what he'd seen Daryl do. This, of course, failed miserably and he burst into a fit of coughing, bending himself nearly in half, lungs pounding with pain.

"First time?" Daryl asked, plucking the cigarette back and returning it to its spot between his chapped lips. Glenn nodded, face hot with embarrassment, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. If that was what it felt like to smoke every time, he couldn't begin to imagine how Daryl appeared so calm, calmer than anything else seemed to make him. Surprisingly, the other man wasn't laughing or chuckling; if anything, he was smiling slightly.

"Maybe you should just let me stick to the smoking," Daryl murmured around his smoke before inhaling again. As his tongue flicked out again, dampening the end and making absolutely _filthy _images run through his head, Glenn realized that he was _more _than fine with letting Daryl do the smoking for the both of them.


End file.
